


After After

by lesbianbean



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Instant Coffee, Late Night Conversations, Michonne deserves all the hugs, Missing Scene, PTSD, Recovery, season 4
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-06
Updated: 2017-09-06
Packaged: 2018-12-24 16:28:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 855
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12016623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lesbianbean/pseuds/lesbianbean
Summary: Rick and Michonne have a late night talk about everything that's happened after she finds him and Carl at the house.





	After After

**Author's Note:**

> So this started as part of the character study I was writing for Michonne but then it got...way bigger than I intended. I blame the Richonne relationship for being so interesting. Michonne went through so much in this episode and it broke my heart, and my headcanon is she and Rick had a lot of these late night chats, because in so many ways they are the other person's touchstone throughout this season.

After Carl fell asleep, Rick awkwardly gestured with his head and they walked to the kitchen. 

“Do you want some coffee? It’s instant, but it’s not terrible.”

She nodded, and he poured a bottle of water into a pot and put it on boil over the gas stove, nearly burning his fingers and swearing under his breath. It was surprisingly comforting. She liked to watch Rick work, whether it was in this kitchen that’s slowly falling apart or in the garden back at the prison.

Thinking about the prison made a sharp pain shoot through her, like when she had the bullet wound in her leg and her pant leg brushed against it. 

“We got no cream or sugar, but Carl found some old chocolate bars that we could break up and mix in with it. You want some?”

“Sure.”

Rick put the mug down in front of her, and for a moment, with the smell of coffee in the air and the soft sound of Carl breathing in the next room she could almost pretend she was back in Atlanta and nothing had changed. 

“I didn’t thank you.”

She looked up from the dark brown liquid. “What do you mean?”

“You know--” He gestured vaguely, and then winced. “You saved my life.”

“You would have done it for me.”

Rick’s hands were shaking on his mug, and she thought of her own on the rope as she tied it around the necks of her walkers. 

The coffee wasn't terrible. It’s got the bitterness that instant coffee always has but the chocolate undercutting it vastly improved the flavor. 

“I’m not sorry that I killed him.”

Rick nodded. 

“He was a monster.”

She took another sip of the coffee and closed her eyes, trying not to think about the Governor snarling with rage that reminded her of the walkers in the throes of bloodlust, reaching for her throat, Andrea burning up as she tried to comfort her in her last moments, the sound her sword made as it went into Hershel’s head. 

“Michonne?”

She put the mug down and stared at her hands. They were shaking too. 

“I’m okay.”

Rick reached across the table and took her hand. “Hey.”

She squeezed his hand and they sat in silence for a long moment. 

“I killed him for you. And for Andrea. For Hershel. For all the people he tortured and manipulated.”

Rick nodded, his mouth set in that oddly comforting grim line. 

“But I did it for me too. I wanted him to suffer after everything he did. I wanted it.”

She met his eyes. “I’m not sorry he’s dead. But I didn’t want to be that person, Rick.”

“After Lori--” Rick stopped for a moment, rubbed his hand over his face. “After she died, I killed almost a hundred walkers. One after another. I didn’t think about Carl, or Judith, or the group. I just wanted to destroy every part of the world that let her die.”

“But you’re not that person anymore.”

“You’re not either.”

“Where is that line, Rick? Where does it go from putting down a rabid animal to wanting another person dead?” 

“I don’t know. I wish I did.”

She drained the rest of her mug and reached for one of the cans on the table.

“Mmm. Creamed corn. My favorite.”

Rick chuckled, and the overwhelming pallor of grief and despair that hung over the house receded slightly. 

“Want to split that and these, uh, sliced green beans?”

“My other favorite.”

They passed the cans back and forth in a comfortable silence for a while before Rick spoke.

“You’re not like him, Michonne.”

“How do you know?”

“I know you.”

“That’s vague.”

Rick tapped the lid of his can on the table for a few moments. “I wouldn’t trust you if you were like him. This world...it tries its damnedest to turn people into monsters, but you’re not one of them. You know, I didn’t trust myself around Carl after Lori. I still don’t, half the time. But after we went on that supply run, I trusted you.”

Michonne focused on can’s peeling label, biting the inside of her cheek. Her emotions still felt like a big raw knot in the center of her chest and she didn’t want to get too close to them, because if she thought too hard about Carl, she’d think about Judith, and then she’d think about Andre and Mike and Andrea and everyone else who she’d lost since this nightmare began. 

“Michonne.” Rick’s voice was soft and she realized she was crying again. She swiped angrily at her cheeks and wished she was anywhere else. Rick took her hand again, and the logical part of her brain said she should pull away but she leaned into his touch instead. 

“You’re not weak for crying, you know. God knows I lost it more after everything that’s happened.”

“Thank you.”

“I’m glad you’re here, Michonne.” 

“I’m glad I found you.”

And it made sense that they had found each other, Michonne thought. It would take a while, but the three of them were going to be okay.


End file.
